


The Stars Stay Crossed, And The Ties They Bind

by hlee0890



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Period-Typical Racism, Phillip Carlyle Needs a Hug, Pining, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Phillip Carlyle, anne is a goddess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 08:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16615883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlee0890/pseuds/hlee0890
Summary: Phillip tries to accept Anne's decision. He really does. But the heart wants what it wants... and his is inextricably tied to the girl that soars above him night after night.





	The Stars Stay Crossed, And The Ties They Bind

The performers turned to the right in unison to make their final bows to each side of the arena. Their movements were timed perfectly, the product of countless hours spent in rehearsal where P.T. wouldn’t be satisfied until every shift was flawless. He had drilled into them the importance of each show’s final bow, stressing the need to face every row of onlookers for the exact amount of time.

  
“That last look is the most important one of the night,” he’d told them one morning. “That’s when we make them feel it. That’s the hook. That’s where we leave them wanting more and more of the magic.”

  
And it _was_ magical, to be sure. Phillip might’ve doubted it had he not seen the lines of eager patrons waiting in the streets on performance nights, which he could’ve easily attributed to brilliant production marketing alone before witnessing the spectacle for himself. He felt the magic come over him that night he first beheld P.T.’s circus from the shadows beside the bleachers; being a part of it since and seeing the show time and again had brought him no closer to explaining the strange phenomenon. P.T. had truly put together the greatest of shows, and the people couldn’t get enough.

  
Pivoting on his heel, Phillip glimpsed the taught line of Anne’s jaw as the next barrage of vicious name calling tore above the applause. She aimed her chin higher, clenching her hands into tight fists at her side. There didn’t exist an expression that could tarnish her beauty, but this defensive, steely look on her face was the one he liked least of all. She shouldn’t have to put on that shield to protect her from the world.

  
How could anyone not see the magnificent wonder that she is? It had all but knocked Phillip off his feet at first sight, seizing his very breath once she captured his attention, blinding him of all else in one monumental moment of clarity. Since that moment his feelings were made quite clear, however any clarity stopped there. His role in the production demanded his focus on other things of course, but he found concentrating on daily tasks increasingly difficult with his awe-struck adoration and desire burning inside him.

  
Nothing and no one held a candle to her. Everything else was secondary. And while he had found with P.T. and the Circus a life that brought both meaning and joy where there’d been none, even those things couldn’t fill the void his heart had irrevocably reserved for Anne Wheeler. He’d watch her most nights as she flew high above the arena, dangling from the rope that she trusted far more than she ever would Phillip, and in those moments could not hide the longing spelled out on his face. He was more careful with his expressions when she was on the ground, hiding his pain from her as best he could. Because as far as she knew he was respecting her wishes and trying to let her go.  
He might have been able to let her go too, just like she’d asked, were it not for those occasional instances where he’d see something in her eyes as well. In these instances he would feel her gaze on him from somewhere across the room, and as soon as he turned to find her she would divert her gaze elsewhere, but not before he caught a glimpse of the conflicted look on her face. It might have been a product of Phillip’s wishful thinking had it not happened again and again, each time her fleeting looks betraying the weakness in the gap she’d wedged between them.

  
Seeing that she was not 100% committed to the resolve that kept them apart only tortured Phillip all the more. It had been she who definitively stopped anything from blossoming between them after all, damning herself and Phillip to this unending limbo of longing looks and careful distances. He should hate her for it, but his adoration for the enigma that was Anne Wheeler could not be so easily quelled, much to his dismay. At his lowest points Phillip would fantasize about quitting the circus and leaving his torment to dangle from the rafters with one less onlooker; he even imagined taking his place in society once again – the prodigal son returned. However, even the fantasy would bring along with it a premonition of the pain he could not yet bear in reality; the torture of not seeing her a far worse fate to imagine. So he would grit his teeth and bear it for now. It was all he could do.

  
He hadn’t touched Anne since the night of their ill-fated theatre outing. Sometimes the distance between them felt like miles. Other times, like in that moment as they faced the crowd side by side, his hand would pulse with the urgency to close the gap between them and find healing in the touch of her skin. Although there was no visible tell to make him think so, she had to have felt the charged energy between them as well.

  
“Go back to the plantation where you belong!”

The enraged shout was barely loud enough to make out over the roaring crowd, but Phillip knew she’d heard it anyway. They all had. Acting on pure impulse, he lowered his outstretched arm to take hold of her fisted hand and guided her forward to stand at the front of the line of performers. She stiffened at first before eventually relaxing her hand to link with his. Phillip’s heart soared when she squeezed her fingers around his, giving him the boldness to lift their linked hands high overhead. Crossing his ankle behind his other leg, he half-bowed toward her as the palms of his free hand opened out, presenting her fully to the audience, inviting their reaction. Phillip knew he’d pay for the gesture later and decided that enduring her wrath was well worth the effort, especially when the crowds roared louder in response. The gleeful screams of young girls and whistling adults blended with the steady clapping of hands, drowning out whatever hateful diatribes remained.

  
From his bow he glanced up and felt the first genuine smile of the evening spread across his face at the sight of Anne’s expression softening into one of wonderment. The moment lasted only as long as she could bear the singular attention before she mimicked Phillip’s action, releasing his hand and opening her long arms out toward him to invite applause. The rest of the circus performers followed suit and clapped their hands for the ring leader. Such an upset to the finale routine would’ve shaken P.T.’s practiced persona to the core, but P.T. wasn’t there that night. So it was that Phillip and the rest relaxed their fixed poses, laughing and cheering as General Tom Thumb mock saluted their leader. Even the audience joined in on the laughter when Phillip flinched upon receiving W.D.’s friendly punch to the shoulder, causing Phillip to laugh as well even as he rubbed the soreness from his arm.

  
For once the movements on the circular stage were neither planned nor rehearsed; the performers all dropped their acts and slipped into the camaraderie and comfortability they’d each found within the circus walls. Lettie cackled as Jax mimicked her signature march around the ring; Victor lifted Tom onto his shoulders and pretended to shoot through his pointed index fingers at the Siamese twins after Tom’s napoleon hat landed on his oversized head. For a few minutes they forgot about the audience entirely before Phillip’s duty as leader necessitated his bowing out of a dance with Marisol in order to bid farewell to the fans that were now exiting the building. He briefly locked eyes with Anne across the arena as he made his way toward the exit and, unlike typical fashion, she didn’t immediately break the contact, instead she offered a slight smile through her flimsy veiled annoyance. Phillip smiled broadly back at her and winked, earning him an eye roll in response though she couldn’t hide the shake of her shoulders as she silently laughed.  
The night had been a win; one for the books as far as he was concerned. He felt light on his feet, spirits lifted higher than the trapeze rings. He had no trouble engaging with the people as they spilled out the doors, playfully teasing the children and shaking hands with their fathers, even going so far as to flirt with a few of the grandmothers who’d braved the outrageous event. The last remaining ticket holders were making their way outside when a low voice spoke from behind his shoulder.

  
“You ought to be ashamed,” the voice began as Phillip waved goodbye to a pair of giggling sisters. His smile waned only slightly, accustomed as he was to such routine condemnations, and braced for whatever would follow. “Parading that naked negro around, flaunting her half-breed abominable birth in front of all these innocent eyes.”

  
Phillip’s back stiffened, forgetting his practiced poise in an instant. Turning to face the man, he made no attempt to put any distance between them as his hands balled into fists on their own bidding. He was met with an answering sneer, the man’s jaw taught with righteous indignation, and made the accuser wait several uncomfortable beats before responding. The familiar looking mustache twitched atop his lip, expertly trimmed in the social fashion of so-called gentlemen. Phillip smiled sardonically at the observation.

  
“You are welcome to see the box office for a refund on your way out, sir,” Phillip told him. “Though I’m afraid we cannot offer money back for the tickets you purchased on previous nights.”

  
The man’s sneer morphed into a scowl as a vein appeared in the middle of his forehead. Anger radiated off of him. “Someone has to be the voice of reason to those you cast your spell on! You’re selling sin, young man.”

  
“And you keep buying,” Phillip countered, leaning forward to grip his shoulder. “On behalf of all us depraved wretches, thank you for your continued support.”

  
The man ripped his arm out of Phillip’s reach and shoved past him. He had taken several steps before turning back around to point his finger at Phillip. “Mark my words, this empire he built will fall. Taking you along with it. This city won’t be safe for any of your lot then. Outside the circus ring they are nothing but freaks and colored whores! Watch yourself, Carlyle.”

  
Phillip advanced toward him, patience spent. “Get the hell out of my building.”

  
But the man was already retreating into the darkened streets beyond the door, leaving the air inside charged in the wake of his pointed threat. Phillip was breathing heavily, chest heaving with the excursion of an unrealized physical confrontation. Some foreign, carnal part of him ached to be set free, to chase down the man who dared to threaten his family. He thought he might’ve even started to follow the instinct’s command but a hand on his shoulder snapped his attention away from the street, only then made aware of the fact that he was shaking with anger.

  
He could only imagine what his face revealed once he turned around to face W.D., who in turn quickly raised his hands defensively between them. Phillip searched his face for signs of offense but found that the taller man’s gaze was fixed on the door behind him. W.D. lowered his eyes to Phillip’s and flicked his chin toward the exit.

  
“What was that?”  
“Nothing,” Phillip quickly replied. “Just another unsatisfied customer.”  
“Phillip.”

W.D. was a man of few words, and not because he didn’t have anything to say, but rather that he required very few words in order to say anything. A look from W.D. could say more than any amount of words, and Phillip had learned to read the man quite well in his months working near him. Though he wasn’t near the level of nonverbal communication mastered between W.D. and Anne, Phillip still felt closer to the siblings with what little he’d been able to glean from their silent conversations. And now it was his turn to be read by W.D.

  
“He doesn’t like what we put on here,” Phillip summarized. W.D.’s expression didn’t change, waiting for him to elaborate. “And that the streets won’t be safe for any of us, essentially.”

  
When W.D. was still unresponsive, Phillip darted his eyes from side to side, head bobbing back and forth as he released the next string of words in one exhaled breath. “And he singled Anne out specifically in his righteous judgment!”

  
W.D. crossed his arms over his broad chest and shook his head, releasing a deep hum in acknowledgment. Phillip stood with his shoulders partly turned away from W.D., a position he often assumed when under W.D.’s intimidating presence, but at the sound of his noncommittal response Phillip craned his neck to search for what might have been “said.” W.D. frowned at his look.

  
“I heard,” he explained with a shrug.

  
Phillips shifted to square off with him, intimidation forgotten. “You heard that and didn’t step in?” Phillip accused. He might’ve had no right in his position, but W.D. was supposed to protect Anne at all costs, which was the only reason Phillip hadn’t needed to worry over her safety.

  
“I did step in,” W.D. answered evenly. “You looked like you were about to chase him down, Carlyle. I stopped you.”

  
Phillip narrowed his eyes, frustrated and confused, and also suddenly bone tired. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. You should’ve been ready to chase him down with me, to make sure that he never sets foot near these doors again!”

  
“Me of all people,” W.D. repeated before pressing his lips together, nodding curtly.

  
“That’s right! I count on you to protect what I can’t!”

  
W.D. took him by the lapels and pushed him away from the open corridor. Phillip’s feet struggled to keep up with the backward momentum, his hands gripping the other man’s forearms for balance. It was then that he noticed other bodies lingering within earshot by the exit, hence the need to take the conversation elsewhere. W.D. ushered them into the shadows beneath the bleachers and kept his hold on Phillip once stopping them abruptly.

  
“We all count on you to do the same damned thing, Carlyle!”

  
Phillip blinked at W.D.’s raised voice, having never heard such emotion from him before. His vision slowly adjusted to the dark, allowing him to see the column that W.D. retreated to once releasing Phillip. His purple costume practically glowed in the dark as he rest his palm against the wooden support, casting his gaze along its rough texture before fixing it on the ceiling above.

  
“This thing we got going here – it doesn’t go anywhere without you,” he continued, voice even again. “Now Barnum’s gone, on to bigger dreams, bigger praise. It’s all on you now. This might just be another job to you, but to us – to Anne – it’s the closest thing to home we’ll ever get. We count on you to protect the show.”

  
“That’s all I was trying to do-”

  
“You lost your head!” W.D. cut him off and turned around. “I saw it plain as day. He struck where he knew it would hurt,” he said in a sympathetic voice as he closed the distance between them. “And this took over.” He jabbed his index finger into Phillip’s chest, directly over his heart. “That can’t happen. You can’t let that happen.”

  
Phillip hung his head, chin dangling above the point W.D. just made, and he tried to reason his offending emotions with the logic of W.D.’s words. He’d built a career around his knowledge and wit and respectable family name before, resulting in a life having no real value at all. His new life was based on the faith in one man’s dream and the love of an unlikely family of misfits. What started as a lucrative business deal became a trade up in every respect. The only downside was that he now had something to lose – and that something was everything to him. He didn’t think he could go back to the unfeeling producer he was before.

  
“How?” Phillip’s voice cracked. He sounded like a child but he hadn’t the energy to feel embarrassed. W.D. smiled kindly, though his eyes revealed only sadness.

  
“Experience helps,” he told Phillip. “Being a son of high society didn’t. But take enough hits and eventually you develop thick skin. When your survival depends on your ability to not hit back, it tends to toughen up pretty fast.”

  
Phillip imagined the Wheelers were forced to endure a lot of hits in their lives. It made him feel like a true deplorable wretch to think that he’d been part of the same society that turned their noses down on anyone deemed lower class.

  
“It doesn’t bother you?” Phillip asked. “The way they treat you because of your skin color? When they look at Anne like she’s some sort of mistake?” He said the latter with disgust, igniting his anger once more.  
“It don’t feel good,” he confirmed. “But the way I see it – if they want to waste their energy by hating me, then that’s their problem. Hate takes too much out of ya. I prefer to save my energy for the ropes.”  
“What about Anne?”  
Phillip recognized the fleeting smile on W.D.’s face as one he often wore himself – one of tenderness and frustration, both loving and pained. “My sister learned to survive same as me, but she had it worse I think. She was born into a world that made it dangerous for a face to be both black and beautiful. Momma used to cut her hair like a boy, saying her face was a curse. That thick skin got her through those years and she’s tough as nails for it, but still… she is different. Anne might be guarded but that’s only to hide her anger. And she’s angry because she still has hope that things will change.”  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Phillip commented.  
“I can’t protect her from hope. And hope kills.”  
“She deserves to hope. She deserves the world.”  
“My sister deserves a roof over her head; the world ain’t worth having.”

  
Phillip cast his eyes to the floor, conceding the point he was trying to make. He couldn’t give Anne all that she deserved, all that he wanted her to have, but he could give her this one thing. He could ensure that the show would go on, that her home remained intact. “I understand.”

  
“Good. You’re a good man, Phillip. Got a good heart.”  
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

W.D. laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to walk away but a final thought made him pause. “For what it’s worth, I do wish things were different, for her sake. And yours.”

  
Phillip didn’t respond until W.D. had left him alone in the shadows. “Me too.”

  
~~

  
The city was quiet outside the window of Barnum’s second story office. It was hours after their last show of the night by the time Phillip closed the ledger and put out the desktop light. Leaning back in the chair, he rubbed the sleep from his heavy eyelids, letting his feet rock him in the chair for several minutes before deciding it was in his best interest to make his way to his town home six blocks away. The numbers for that week’s ticket sales had been good, but with added expense of Lind’s national tour Phillip still worried about coming out ahead. Someone had to worry about the details. And as W.D. had told him earlier that night, it was now on Phillip.

  
He put on his coat and scarf before heading out, suddenly anxious to breathe in the fresh air beyond the circus walls. The night had brought on a brisk chill despite its being officially spring, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him once he stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was about to cross the intersection when some unnameable feeling gave him pause. He looked around in search of the sensation’s source, his eyes drawn to the bright object hanging above the rear alley of the museum. Straining his eyes toward it, he was able to make out the object as a flowing piece of fabric caught in the railing of the fire escape. A second later he recognized the fabric as a shawl which was clearly attached to a figure sitting on the landing.

  
Anne’s caramel-colored skin glowed under the pale moonlight, guiding him toward her like a beacon in the night. She must have noticed him long before he’d seen her, but she remained silent and motionless even as he mounted the overloaded waste can to lower the ladder that was just almost out of reach. Anne sat on the metal surface of the first landing, legs poking through the rails to let her feet dangle beneath her. She hadn’t yet objected to his presence and Phillip took that lack of reaction as permission to seat himself beside her, leaving enough space between them out of propriety. He let a full two minutes pass by before he could stand the silence no more.

“Anne?”  
“Yes, Mr. Carlyle?"

  
The impersonal use of his family name stung, but he pushed back the emotion for the time being. “Is everything all right?” He searched the side of her face for a clue into her thoughts but found nothing save for the pale color of her cold lips.

  
“All’ and ‘right’ and ‘everything’ have no business being in the same sentence, Mr. Carlyle, as you should know. Didn’t you used to write plays for a living?” He could hear the smile in her voice as she teased him, though it wasn’t lost on him how deliberately she’d misdirected the question. He chuckled anyway, sensing her need for levity in that moment.

  
“Produced, Ms. Wheeler. I sold the products of other people’s talents and hard work, while possessing no such skills of my own.” Phillip considered his own words and chuckled darkly at what they revealed then. “Not much has changed, I suppose.”

  
It was Anne’s turn to search his face and he fixed his eyes on anything else. “You sell yourself short,” she remarked so softly he might’ve imagined it.

  
“Why are you sitting out here in the cold, Anne?” He didn’t want to leave any room for her to avoid the question again. She surprised him by not even trying.

  
“I was waiting on you,” she answered matter-of-factly. “And this isn’t cold. This is a respite from the stuffiness we have to endure daily.”

  
“Now that I can understand.” He wanted to press further, to satisfy the hopeful curiosity ignited by her simple answer that she seemed to think required no further explanation. They lapsed into another silence, but this time Phillip was in no rush for it to end. Like she’d said, the cool night air provided a much needed break from the pressure he felt inside those four walls. Her presence at his side was an added comfort that he didn’t wish to take for granted. He tucked his left ankle under his right thigh and pushed his leg between the bars to dangle it next to hers. Resting his clammy forehead against the cold metal barrier, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the sound of her voice made his eyes snap open again.

  
“You had a lot of work to do upstairs tonight.” It wasn’t a question but he nodded to confirm it anyway.  
“I wanted to finish the lineup for next month’s performances and get the press releases ready. The books had to be brought up to date as well.” He nearly bored himself to sleep just talking about it, as such he decided to quit while he was ahead.  
“P.T. is lucky to have you,” she remarked.  
“Ah, but without you and the others, P.T. has nothing. I am quite replaceable.”  
“He has Ms. Lind now.”  
“For now,” he agreed. “The tour won’t last forever. He’ll be back.” The comment on his time spent in the office raised a new question for him. “How long were you waiting out here?”  
“I don’t know. How long were you in the office tonight?”  
“Anne…”  
“Carlyle.” She matched his disapproving tone.  
“You shouldn’t be on the streets alone.”  
“I wasn’t on the streets. I was above them.”  
“I’m being serious, Anne. You should’ve come to me. It’s not safe for-”  
“For a colored woman to be outside after dark? Is that what you were going to say?” She directed her fiery gaze on him, her tone and demeanor readied in defense.

Phillip gaped at her, taking more offense by her words than he cared to admit. “Have I ever, at any moment since the day we met, regarded you or anything that pertained to you by the color of your skin?” The disgust in his voice was enough for her to back down, her expression slightly ashamed but still annoyed. “Jesus, Anne,” he breathed, dropping his eyes onto the alley below. “Is that what you think of me?” Her whispered no was barely audible.  
“It’s not safe for anyone to walk the streets of Manhattan alone. That is what I was going to say, for the record.” He was still angry enough to not bother with masking the bitterness in his voice.

Minutes later she mumbled something that he couldn’t understand, her words blocked by her arm that she’d rested her face against. “I didn’t catch that.”

  
She lifted her chin to rest on top of her arm, speaking louder and slowly while still facing the opposite direction. “I wasn’t planning to walk alone. But you were.”  
“I don’t worry about myself as much.”  
“Well that’s not very fair, is it?” She switched to the other cheek so that she was now facing his direction once more. “That man threatened you right along with us, did he not?”  
Phillip ducked his head, cursing W.D. with his thoughts.  
“He had to give me an explanation when he refused to let me walk home with Lettie and the girls,” Anne quickly added in her brother’s defense.  
“But he still left you here alone.”  
“Only because I told him that I’d be with you.”

  
Phillip paused to let that sink in, but he refused to let himself be distracted by the way his heart reacted to her words. He leaned closer to her, locking his eyes with hers so that she was forced to see the sincerity behind them.

  
“I didn’t know you were here, Anne. The only reason I’m not consumed by thoughts on your safety and well-being is because I know that W.D. is with you. If I don’t have that, I have nothing! And since you won’t let me close enough to care for you myself, the very least you can do is not linger on the street by yourself!”

  
Phillip released her from his gaze and focused on the alley once more as he struggled to reign in his emotions. It wasn’t fair to either of them to keep opening up old wounds. She followed his line of sight and shifted her legs, bringing her closer to Phillip in the process. Her nearness was like an ember warming the little space between them.

  
“Phillip, I’m sorry,” she eventually whispered. The use of his first name made him close his eyes for moment to let it wash over him.  
“It’s been a long night and I’m tired; it’s I who should apologize.”  
“You’ve only ever treated me with respect and dignity, like I was your equal,” she continued. “And I’ve only ever brought you pain and regret.”

  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone tear spill over her chin and land in her lap. He pressed his eyes shut once more.

  
“That’s not true,” he eventually trusted his voice enough to argue. “I don’t regret this pain.”

  
She tilted her head to the side to look at him, waiting for an explanation he hadn’t yet decided to give. He was being selfish in bringing up the wounds that he had only himself to blame for their being unhealed. He couldn’t let her believe that he blamed her for it.

  
“The pain – it’s how I know it was real,” he began. “It may not have turned out the way I hoped, but I could never regret the way you made me feel.” Phillip was gracious enough to allow her privacy as more tears fell onto her lap. She was a proud woman after all, and he didn’t want her to have any regrets from this night. When her eyes finally dried, she wrapped her shawl tighter across her and even accepted his scarf when it was offered.

  
“My mother was on her way home from work late one evening when three white men attacked her and dragged her off the road.” Anne started the story in a detached voice, the words coming from a place inside her that was obviously familiar territory. “I’ll never know which of those monsters was my biological father and I guess, in a way, that’s a good thing. Her husband – W.D.’s daddy – wanted nothing to do with a light-skinned daughter; I think neither of them could look at me without being reminded of how I came to be. Momma said I was her punishment, and I would be cursed to have every man’s lustful eyes on me where I went. It didn’t make much sense to me as a kid, but I lived in fear of that curse until I understood it. W.D. made my childhood bearable, of course. He was the best brother any girl could ever hope for. Then one day he couldn’t shield me from the looks I was getting anymore. After that I couldn’t not notice, though I wished I could.  
“Momma stopped letting me go to church not long after that, said I was causing sin to enter good men’s hearts,” she told him, her voice still cold and emotionless.

Phillip couldn’t stop himself from interrupting. “You know that is absurd, right? It was cruel to make you believe-”

  
“I know that now. I don’t believe I have any control over a man’s sinful nature. Men direct their gaze on whatever they please. Momma had issues and she dealt with them the only way she knew how, but she really only worried about one man’s attention. I was 12 years old when her worst fears came true.”

  
Phillip wasn’t sure when he stopped breathing, or at what point his eyes pooled with unshed tears that he didn’t try to stop.

  
“It was W.D. who caught him watching. I’d never seen him so mad at his daddy before then and it scared me. I didn’t dare tell her, but Momma found out soon enough and told me I had to leave her house. I packed a bag as fast I could and walked straight out the door without another word; I never looked back at the house either. W.D. caught up with me at the end of the drive not five minutes later, of course,” she added with an endearing smile.  
“I’m used to people looking at me – I guess that’s what I’m trying to make you understand. But I’m not used to people looking at me the way you did, Phillip. The way you do. It was like, for the first time, someone wasn’t just looking _at_ me; I was finally being _seen_. I can’t regret that either.”

  
It would take a full minute before Phillip gained enough composure to respond, but even then he had to blink away the last remaining tears to begin. “Anne.” He breathed her name like a whispered prayer, the rest of his words clogging in his throat. She tilted her head to smile sideways, her expression sympathetic for him, of all things.

  
“Take me home?”

  
He nodded his acquiesce, feeling like a cad for accepting her offering of escape from the loaded conversation. He rose to his feet and helped her do the same, letting his fingers linger around her cold hands for a beat longer than necessary before following down the ladder. Once there were both safely on the alley floor, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and indicated the bareness of her feet. She smiled sheepishly at having not noticed and Phillip knelt down in front her, producing the shoes that he’d retrieved from the landing. Anne said nothing when he gently cupped the back of her ankle, hesitating for only a second before lifting her foot. She held onto his shoulder for balance that she’d never needed help with before as he slipped the shoes onto her calloused feet. She avoided his eyes once he rose to full height again, extending her muted thanks.

  
Phillip kept a wary eye on their surrounding as they started their route to Anne’s home, keeping a close position next to her just in case. Though he maintained his readied gaze on the path before him, he didn’t miss the occasional sidelong glances she shot his way, as if she were making sure that he was still there beside her. They turned at the cross street that led to the tenement housing unit that Anne shared with W.D. and several others that worked in the circus, and Phillip felt himself begin to relax once the building came into view. Just a few steps more until she was safely tucked away inside. At the gate of the apartment’s steps Phillip turned to face her, pausing with his hand on the bar ready to open it for her. She lifted an eyebrow in question.

  
“Aren’t you going to see me to my door?”  
“You aren’t worried about how that might look to your neighbors? Or to your brother?”  
Anne surprised him by laughing out loud. “You don’t need to worry about W.D. Besides, he’ll appreciate you going the extra mile, as it were. Unless you’re concerned for other reasons…” she added with a tone of uncertainty. Phillip opened the gate and waved her ahead of him.  
“I stopped concerning myself with the opinion of others some time ago, Ms. Wheeler.”  
“Occupational hazard,” she affirmed, drawing a small smile out of him.  
“That’s certainly part of it.”  
They were standing inside the narrow entry of the complex then and she turned toward him with one foot on the stair, eyeing him curiously for a long moment.  
“What?” he asked self-consciously.  
“I guess I’m just trying to figure out how someone like you came to be.”  
“Someone like me?”  
“A man who had the world and came to the other side anyway.”

  
He considered his answer briefly before responding as best he knew how. “Wealth and privilege make for a comfortable life,” he admitted. “But I had to earn my place on this side of things. Somehow that’s worth much more.”

  
Anne continued studying him for a few seconds longer before turning back to the stairs. “You say that now,” she murmured. Phillip waited but she didn’t continue the thought. He followed her the remainder of the way up the stairs in silent reverie, wishing for glimpse inside her mind, until they reached the fourth floor. She paused outside the door to her room with her key in hand, making no immediate move to unlock it. He was opening his mouth to bid her goodnight when she spoke first.

  
“You can bunk with W.D. tonight. I’ll stay in Lettie’s room.”  
Phillip blinked, mouth opening and closing twice before he could formulate a response. “That’s not-”  
“Don’t you dare fight me on this, Phillip Carlyle,” she warned. “You might not be concerned with your safety but others are. It’s late, you’re dead on your feet anyway, and there’s a bed already made up for you inside.”  
“But W.D., the others… Anne, this doesn’t seem proper.”  
“It was W.D.’s idea in the first place, or at least I planted the thought and let him think it was his idea. Don’t make me call him out here to threaten you.” She raised her chin, challenging him with her fiery glare. He could see that this was something that she would not easily back down from, and he knew enough about the Wheeler siblings to not doubt that action followed their threats. He released a wearied sigh and gestured for her to unlock the door, praying that Lettie and the others were already fast asleep. In the morning he’d slip out before having to endure their suggestive hazing, he plotted.

  
He stayed close at Anne’s heels as she led him through the apartment to the bedroom door, giving whispered directions on the location of the washroom and linen closet.

  
“Thank you, Anne.”

  
She shifted her weight, a nervous motion that he’d never seen on her before, and she smiled shyly at a spot on his chest. “You too,” she replied with a shrug. “I, uh… I’ll see you later then. Get some rest.”

  
“Goodnight.” His words were directed at the empty space left by her retreating form. She vanished in the darkness of the small apartment.

  
W.D. was asleep when he entered the compact room and he made his way over to the empty bunk nestled in the corner, grateful for the dimly glowing lamp on the side table. The exhaustion he’d been combating was now taking over as he began removing his clothes, stifling any needs other than the one demanding that he lie down. He fell onto the thin mattress and was assaulted by Anne’s feminine scent wafting from the pillow case. He was asleep within seconds.

  
~~

  
It was the second show that didn’t sell out in as many weeks. Although the energetic crowd filling the seats that night should have been enough to dispel his concerns over the decrease in numbers, Phillip couldn’t help but be aware of the change. He was, after all, the only one who held proof of the decline in the ledger on his desk each night. They were still doing well, but the show was not unaffected by P.T.’s absence. He hid these concerns from everyone else however, resolved to carry this burden alone.

  
The truth was that most of Manhattan had already been to see Barnum’s circus at that point, and without the Ringleader there to produce fresh ideas and shake up the show’s routine, they were running the risk of becoming a tired act.

  
That night, however, everyone was on their A game and delivered flawless performances one after another. The crowd went wild during W.D. and Anne’s death defying stunt on the trapeze, an act that they had been rehearsing for weeks before risking it publicly. Phillip, along with the rest of the onlookers, held his breath in the seconds that passed with Anne suspended in the air without a harness or rope before locking on to W.D.’s waiting hands. He may not have liked the risk that was taken, but he couldn’t argue the results it had on the audience. Nearly every body jumped to their feet to applaud the completion of their stunt.

  
Phillip met the siblings inside the ring to conclude their portion of that evening’s lineup and set the stage for the following performance. As rehearsed, he circled around the pair while goading the audience for further applause. Anne and W.D. were taking their final bows when Phillip spotted an object sailing toward the ring out of the corner of his eye. It was too late to react though, and he watched in sickening clarity as the glass bottle connected with Anne’s temple.

  
The air seemed to rush out of the room as a collective gasp was heard over the crowd. Anne doubled over but did not hit the ground. Phillip advanced toward her to see the seriousness of the injury but her hands blocked his view. He circled around her and caught the look on W.D.’s face where he hovered over her back.

  
Phillip recognized the murderous intent in his eyes that were fixed on a single spot in the bleachers, and saw the exact moment of surrender to the impulse. Denying his own instincts to see to Anne in that moment, Phillip rushed toward W.D. and thwarted his advance by wrapping his arms around his torso. W.D. pushed against him but Phillip planted his heels, feeling the dirt give way underneath him. He wouldn’t be able to restrain the man for very long. He cupped the back of W.D.’s head and forced his attention away from the bleachers, putting his face between W.D. and the thing driving him in a dangerous trajectory.

  
“Look at me. Look at me, W.D.!”

  
When at last W.D.’s eyes came into focus and locked on to him, Phillip tapped the side of his forehead. “Don’t lose it, okay? Okay?!”

  
W.D. looked over his shoulder once more before cursing under his breath.

  
“Get Anne out of here. Now,” Phillip ordered.

  
Several tortuously long seconds later W.D. finally relaxed his efforts against Phillip and took a measured step back. Phillip pressed his eyes closed, conveying unspoken thanks before turning around to face the audience. He touched his lapel in signal for the ushers to move in and addressed the murmuring onlookers.

  
“Some people are just harder to please than others,” he began with practiced levity. “While the ushers direct the gentleman to our suggestion box outside, why don’t we get back to the greatest of shows and the only reason all of you are here tonight.  
“Before we bring out our next fantastic and, dare I say, larger than life star, let me first tell you a tall tale..”  
Phillip resisted the urge to glance behind him and confirm that Anne had been safely removed, for the audience required his full attention in order to bounce back from the event. It required every bit of his showman abilities to sell the performance he was giving then, when all he really wanted was to shut everything down and kick them all out.

  
~~

  
It had been the longest hour of his entire life; by the time the finale wrapped Phillip felt as if he’d aged ten years. After ensuring that Anne was fine and had been taken home earlier, he barricaded himself into his office and opened the bottle that had been left untouched for weeks. He relished the burn in his throat as he shot back the hot amber liquid, angling his head toward the ceiling to let it wash over him completely. Suddenly he couldn’t remember the reasons for having denied himself the pleasure for this long and poured himself another glass. The bottle was completely dry less than two hours later.

  
Angry at himself for not having the foresight to keep more supply on hand, Phillip eyed the empty bottle accusingly until another bottle appeared in his mind’s eye. A bottle similarly spent by an angry excuse of a man who thought to use it as a weapon against the purist figure in the room. Phillip launched the bottle at the closed door, shattered pieces of glass covered the wood flooring. But it wasn’t enough to dispel the hatred consuming him. He grabbed the heavy bound ledger from the desk and swung it into the nearby lamp, sending it crashing over the edge. He then turned his attention on the rest of the items spread out on the desk, clearing the surface with one swipe of his violent hands. Kicking the chair out of his way and into the couch on the adjacent wall, Phillip lowered himself onto the floor and drew his knees up, burying his face into his folded arms.

  
In all his years of wasted living, he had never been more disgusted with himself than he was in that moment. With one choice he had completely dissolved any merits he hoped to have possessed. It was despicable. It was unforgivable. His face and arms were soon drenched with salty tears and he pulled off his shirt to dry the evidence of his breakdown. He tossed the shirt away, landing on the couch in the same moment a knock came from the other side of the door.

  
“What?” he barked. The person on the other side answered by knocking again. Phillip hauled himself to his feet, preparing to rip the offenders head off, and crunched over the broken glass to open the door.

  
“What?” He instantly regretted his harsh tone at the sight of Anne standing before him, though it didn’t appear that she’d taken offense. Gripping the edge of the door, he closed his eyes and leaned against his hand. “What are you still doing here, Anne? You were supposed to have gone home hours ago.”

  
He didn’t want to open his eyes and see the face staring back at him. He certainly didn’t want to see the evidence of the assault on her face either.

  
“You’ve been drinking.” It wasn’t an accusation or a judgment, merely an observation. Still, it stung to hear her say it. He shifted, causing more glass to crunch beneath his feet as he leaned his weight against the door. Anne pushed passed him to enter the office and he pinched the bridge of his nose, maintaining his stance near the open door.

  
“Anne, please. I can’t do this right now.”  
“Do what exactly?”  
“I don’t… want you to see me like this, okay?” he choked out.  
“Phillip-”  
“And I just can’t see you right now. Don’t you get that? Please leave me alone!”

  
The silence that followed felt like a noose around his neck, clogging his air passages. He heard her footsteps cross the room, leading her back toward the door, but instead of leaving she took it out of his grip and closed it shut.

  
“Tough. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  
Phillip fixed his half-lidded eyes on the floor and saw her feet through his blurred vision where they stood atop the littered debris. He released an angry sigh and stepped around her to take a seat on the couch. She followed him silently, movements not heard but her presence felt on the other end of the couch. Risking a glance her way, he saw that she had picked up the shirt he’d thrown away and was holding it in her lap. It was then that he was reminded of his clothing situation, wearing only a thin sleeveless undershirt, suspenders hanging loosely over his pant legs. Anne was risking her reputation by being alone with him in this state. He leaned forward and pressed his fingers into the sides of his now throbbing head.

  
“You shouldn’t be here.”  
“That opinion has already been made abundantly clear,” she replied flatly.  
“I’m trying to be a gentleman here. If someone saw us-”  
“Oh, it’s my virtue you’re worried about? Now you’re really reaching, Carlyle.”  
“Yes, Anne, that is precisely my concern! And it would seem that I can’t even protect that properly! If you don’t leave here then people will talk. Not about me – my reputation is well established – but about you!”

  
Anne tossed the shirt at his face with a little more force than necessary, in his opinion, and waited until he had pulled his arms through the damp sleeves before responding. “It’s not up to you to stand between me and the world’s judgement. What ever happened to not caring about what they think?”  
Phillip said nothing to this.

  
“Look at me,” Anne commanded. She shifted closer and gingerly placed her hand on his forearm, her touch lighter than a feather’s might have felt. Phillip flinched away from the contact anyway, immediately regretting the reaction. “Phillip, look at me,” she repeated, so close to him that he could feel her breath on his neck.

  
Finally he surrendered to the power her voice had over him and craned his neck to peer up at her face. Her dark curls hung freely over her shoulders, framing her face and neck, mercifully shielding any evidence of the assault from his view. Her eyes appeared almost black under the shadows of the office, though still glistening as the fractured city lights reflected back at him.

  
“You can’t shield me from everything,” she told him. “I can take care of myself.”

  
Phillip launched himself from the cushions and crossed the room to stand before the window. “I can’t shield you from _anything_ , Anne. That’s the problem.”  
“I don’t want you to! What happened tonight was not your fault!”  
“I know that.”

  
Anne moved to stand behind him, the glass panes reflecting the anger in her posture as she folded her arms to glare at the back his neck. “Then why are you punishing yourself?”  
“Because the show came first, that’s why!” he snapped, whipping around to face her squarely. “The show must go on – that’s what P.T. is always reminding us, isn’t it? And I guess it finally happened. I sold my soul to see it through, no matter what. You have no idea disgusting it feels to do nothing!”

  
To her credit, Anne didn’t even blink under his raised voice and heated glare. A small line appeared between her eyebrows as she gaped at him in disbelief. “You did not do nothing, Phillip.”  
He laughed bitterly and paced the floor in front of the windows, having no patience for any attempts at coddling in that moment.

  
“I’m not just saying something to make you feel better,” Anne added, standing unmoved as her eyes followed him back and forth. “I saw what happened out there, and it certainly wasn’t nothing.”

Phillip’s frantic movements came to a stop at the edge of the desk and he planted his palms atop the vacant surface, hanging his head in shame. “I should’ve let W.D. have at him,” he seethed. “I should’ve gone right along with him and let everyone see the consequences firsthand. Then we would never have to worry about something like that happening again.”  
“You’re right,” she replied. “Because that would’ve certainly ruined any chance of us ever opening to the public again.”  
He shook his head. “You don’t know that for certain.”  
“I don’t? Phillip, you aren’t really that naïve. If W.D. had laid one finger on that white society member then all of New York would be out for blood. The show would be over and W.D. would have hanged for his crime. You saved his life. You saved us all from losing everything!”

  
She circled around him and seated herself on the desktop next to his hands. Phillip tilted his head toward her and stilled – the bruising on her temple now visible through her parted hair. From the sudden change in her expression Phillip knew that she’d seen when he noticed, angling her head away from him in response. He pushed off the desk and moved to stand over her, his thigh barely grazing the tip of her knee. Anne squirmed and wrapped the shawl tighter around her, visibly uncomfortable under the directness of his gaze and the disadvantage of height she rarely experienced.  
Phillip knew it was a risk, and had he not the benefit of alcohol-induced courage he no doubt would’ve stifled the impulse to lift his hand to her chin, turning her face back toward him. She pursed her lips into a frown as she met his gaze, but did not shy away from the touch of his fingertips where they trailed the line of her jaw. Tenderly, reverently, he ghosted his fingers over her cheekbone before pushing back the hair that shielded her forehead.

  
A knot was beginning to form above her brow line, a ring a dark purple bruising surrounding it. The bottle hadn’t broken the skin, Phillip was grateful to discover, and so she would not have to worry about permanent scarring on her flawless face. Still, he couldn’t help the flare of hate at the sight; he felt it pulsating through the tips of his fingers and was certain the reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

  
“I’m so sorry, Anne.”  
“I know,” she breathed, taking his hand from her face and squeezing it between her palms. “But you aren’t responsible.”  
“I wanted so badly to do more.”  
“I know that too. And I don’t doubt that you could have. If it came down to it, I know with absolute certainty that there isn’t anything you wouldn't do to protect me. To protect any of us. We all trust you with our lives, Phillip. But what you did today showed more strength than any impulsive vengeance might have proved in the moment. We’re all grateful for the leadership you displayed out there. And I… I’m proud of you – I guess that’s the word I’m looking for.”

  
Phillip lowered his gaze on to the hands that still held him to her. The warmth from that touch was quite undoubtedly better than any pleasures he had indulged his flesh before. Somehow just her nearness alone gave him a feeling of being whole for the first time; with one simple and innocent contact of skin, she was completing the missing parts of him that nothing and no one else ever came close.

  
He loved her with every fiber of his being, and that truth was equal parts wonderful and despairing for him to realize. For she had made it clear and absolute where they stood, and was so far unmoved from that position. To reveal the love that had consumed him irreversibly would only result in her pushing him further away. She would try to spare him the pain of his unrequited devotion by distancing herself. And that was something that Phillip simply could not allow.

  
“So will you stop with all this self-loathing now, or do I have to throw a bottle at your head just to make you feel better?”

  
Phillip narrowed his eyes at her in response, finding nothing funny in the light-hearted remark. She was unapologetic in her answering expression, her smile spreading until it crinkled her nose in that absurdly adorable fashion unique to her alone and effectively weakening his annoyance.

  
“Well, since you’re offering…”

  
She playfully kicked his shin before releasing his hand and scooted off of the desk. Once again matching him in height, Anne seemed to regain more of her emboldened nature and wrapped her arms around him in an unexpected embrace. The hug was light and heavenly, but also all-to-brief, the connection ending as quickly as it began.

  
“Why don’t we clean up this mess before anyone else sees just how destructive your tantrums can be, Mr. Carlyle,” she suggested, stepping around him to face the room.

  
He only considered objecting to the idea until realizing that he had no logical objection to offer. Besides, he could use the time to sober up before making his way home. Together they made quick work clearing up the remnants of his lapse in composure, all the while carrying on lighter topics of conversation that kept his mind from slipping into dangerous territory once more. Phillip was collecting pieces of the broken lamp from the floor when Anne bent over him to retrieve the thick ledger that lay open nearby.

  
“Have you voiced your concerns about this to Mr. Barnum?” she asked him, taking Phillip off guard. He glanced her way, frowning in confusion.  
“Who said anything about concerns?”  
“You did,” she answered nonchalantly.  
“I’m certain I did no such thing.”  
“You say quite a lot by saying nothing sometimes,” she informed him as she rose to full height again. “But don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”

  
She moved away from him and deposited the book onto the desk, waiting for him to decide whether or not to confirm the theory. His concerns for the future of their production should not be laid on her shoulders as well, but the relief at having someone to share the burden with, if only for a moment, was all too tempting to pass by. And just like that, he was unloading all of his pent up frustrations in the minutes that followed. He held nothing back, expressing his anger over P.T.’s neglect and distractions, the pressures of maintaining the show that he’d all but abandoned. Anne listened patiently to it all, showing no signs of judgment and never interrupting to disagree with his self-doubt or offer reassurances, sensing – Phillip guessed – that he had no need of either.  
Before long – Phillip had no notion of the amount of time that actually passed – he found himself seated next to her on the couch again, her sympathetic eyes trained on him until he finally finished spilling all that had been trapped inside. He released a self-conscious laugh and smiled crookedly at her.

  
“Sorry you asked?”  
Her answering smile chased away any of his regret. “Not at all. You clearly needed to talk about it.”  
“Yes, well, it’s selfish of me to share this with you when P.T. is the one that should hear it. It’s just too easy for me to talk with you,” he confessed.  
“Good,” she quickly replied. “I may not be able to offer any solutions, but I can listen whenever it’s needed.”  
“Thank you, Anne.”  
“You’re welcome, Phillip.”

  
That night he walked her home again, though this time without much concern as the hour was still early enough. At one point during their stroll Anne looped her arm through his, and Phillip was sure that he’d never forget the moment for as long as he lived.

  
He would never stop loving this woman; that fact alone perhaps the only thing in his life that he trusted with absolute certainty. Where they stood was still a long way from where he wanted them to be, but Phillip no longer despaired over the future that she’d claimed would never be theirs. The world was changing, he felt it. Furthermore, he believed that there would be a place for them in that world someday.

**Author's Note:**

> I confess that I love writing angsty Phillip a little too much. I think he has more self-loathing to deal with, so there might be more to this story. Thanks for reading! XOXO


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